


Nervous Ticks

by livlaughplay03



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Jared eats bathbombs, M/M, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livlaughplay03/pseuds/livlaughplay03
Summary: Group projects are something Evan prefers not to do. Of course, teachers don't care what you don't prefer to do.





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was done from a distance with Evan Hansen. His voice was always far off when you would talk to him. You would never see him in the center of a classroom, he would be in the far corner, staring out of the window. His eyes were never focused, they fluttered around. It was impossible to make eye contact with him. If you did happen to make any sort of connection with Evan, his voice was quiet and high pitched, quick and unchecked. It was as though he wanted to be distanced.

And while there was a truth to him wanting to be distanced, something inside Evan Hansen wanted to be able to talk to people. Be able to make connections. To be able to go to parties and be the center of attention. Then another part of him made worse case scenarios. If he talked to people they would think he was a freak. If he made connections people would just turn on him and snap his heart into pieces. If he was the center of attention, he would very possibly mess up and everyone would laugh at him.  
So for the time being, he was fine being distanced from people.

This didn’t keep him from noticing things however. He noticed things about people. He noticed that Zoe Murphy would scribble stars on the cuffs of her jeans, just to wash them out later. He noticed that Jared Kleinman would sometimes wear just a spritz of his mothers perfume, just to keep her with him. He noticed how Alana Beck still wears the friendship bracelet that her imaginary friend made her in first grade. He noticed how Connor Murphy would snap the hair tie on his wrist whenever he got an assignment back from a teacher. He noticed things.  
In fact, doing things from a distance probably enhanced this skill. But it did hurt him pretty badly whenever he had to do something that required socialization. Like group projects. One time he had been assigned to be in a group with Alana. He had accidentally brought up the fact that she always wears a blue cardigan on Mondays. "Oh well, I like your sweater, I mean, you always wear it on Mondays, so it's not like I haven't seen it before..."

That was a disaster.

From that point on, Evan always emailed his teachers asking if he could do the group project by himself. Most of the time the teacher would say yes. The other time he would just put Jared's name on the project with his and move on.  
The third time was terrible. Assigned groups.

"We'll be starting off the year with a group project," Evans English teacher stated.  
Collective groans from the class. Evan glanced over from his usual window seat, avoiding eye contact with the teacher. He could probably get out of this. "I've already assigned your groups, so don't even ask."

Another collective groan.

Evan didn't participate in the collective groaning. The only activity he participated in was the heart races. What if he was partnered with someone he didn't know? If he was paired with Alana Beck, he would feel guilty about not doing quite as much work as Alana. And if he was paired with- "Connor Murphy, you will be with Evan Hansen."

All the eyes in class were either on Connor or Evan. The kid who never talks with the kid who talks too much for his own good. Connor was looking towards the front of the classroom, grimacing. He was no more ready to do this then Evan was. "Alright, for the project you will read a book together and then write a report on it. The report can be in any form, presentation, essay, etcetera. If you have any questions, please come ask me."

At once, the class dispersed into their groups. Evan got up slowly, his head going a mile a minute. His pencil and notebook in hand, he stumbled over to Connors seat. "So, how'd you break your arm?" Connor asked, not giving Evan a glance.

Evan tightened up his posture. Nervous tick. "Oh, well I, uh, fell out of a tree this summer."

"Oh my god, that might be the lamest fucking way to break an arm," Connor wasn't laughing, but his voice sounded like it wanted to. He snapped the tie on his wrist.  
Evan could feel his face heating up and his neck tightening. He set his notebook down just so he could fiddle on the gauze of his cast. Nervous tick.

"Nobody's signed your cast," Connor noted, "you have a sharpie on you?"

Evan reached into his back pocket and pulled out the sharpie his mom had given him that morning, just in case someone wanted to sign the cast. "Y-you don't have to do this," Evan stuttered.

"Gonna do it anyway," Connor remarked.

Connor quickly scribbled his name in big, capital letters that took up the entire front of Evan's cast. "Oh, thanks," Evan whispered.

"Now we can both pretend we have friends," Connor capped the marker and handed it back to Evan.

"R-right," Evan cleared his throat, "So, um, do you have any idea what book you wanna do? You know, for our project?"

Connor shrugged. "Dunno, probably something short."

Evan scratched his leg with his foot. Another nervous tick. "We could do The Giver," Evan mumbled.

"The what?" Connor raised an eyebrow.

"The Giver," Evan spoke up a little, "it's pretty short, but it's still a respectable piece of literature. So I thought..."

"No no no, that'll work," Connor interrupted, "I've actually been wanting- never mind."  
Learn something new everyday, and today Evan learned (through an educated guess) that Connor liked to read and he would rather not have anybody know.

"I have two copies so if you wanted to I could lend you one of them," Evan gulped.

"Sure, I guess," Connor agreed, "I could pick it up tonight if that's okay."

"T-tonight?" Tonight implied that someone was going to be going to someones house. Tonight implied that someone was going to someones house. Connor saying that he was going to "pick it up" implied that it was going to be Evan's house. Would Evan just hand him the book and then Connor would go home? Would he have to invite him inside? What if his mom answered the door? What if she shooed him away? What if she showed Connor baby pictures?   
"Yeah, will that be an issue?" Connor asked.

Stiffened posture. "Oh! No, not at all!" Evan's voice got quicker and started getting higher.

"Cool," Connor laid back in his chair, "Can I have your address?"

"S-sure," Evan used his pen to write his address on a slip of paper. Connor took it and stuffed it into the messenger bag he took everywhere.

"I'll come by around six," Connor stated, pulling out a pair of headphones.

"Okay," Evan took his notebook and pen back to his seat and flipped open the notebook.

\--  
Dear Evan Hansen,

Today is gonna be a good great fine day, because nothing can happen too big on the first day of school.

Sincerely,

Me  
\--

Evan Hansen of 7 AM was dead wrong.

***

Evan got home at about 4 PM, leaving him about two hours to get mentally and physically prepared for Connor to arrive. First he would have to take a shower for the second time that day. A nervous tick. Then he'd spend half an hour debating the affect of his clothing on the mood. Then he'd clean up his already clean room. All with a nerve-wracking fifteen minutes to spare.

To occupy those fifteen minutes, Evan decided to look at his laptop. He wasn't on any social media, unless you count skype, but he would still write sometimes. On the laptop he found five messages from Jared Kleinman, who was the only person who had ever really resembled a friend.

Bathbomb: Dude  
Bathbomb: E.Han  
Bathbomb: I heard the news  
Bathbomb: Good luck working with the psycho  
Bathbomb: gtg bathbombs await

Great, so now everyone now knew and was judging Evan over an assigned group. He slid back in his chair and played with his gauze. "Evan! Someone's here for you!"

Evan had never gotten up so quickly in his life. He'd never had to before today. He'd never had guests of his own over. Sure his mom had guests over every now and then, but never him. He barreled down the stairs, only to find both Connor and his mom shooting the breeze. Connor was still wearing the same clothing he wore to school: a faded black hoodie and the tan messenger bag he always had. His mother was wearing a star printed hoodie over a pair of scrubs, with dog slippers over her feet. "Evan, this nice boy said you had a book for him!" Heidi looked overjoyed that her son had a guest, someone who had come to see him.

Connor looked over at Evan with a questioning look, one that made Evan stiffen up. "Connor, don't just stand in the doorway, come in! I'll fix you two up some dinner!" Heidi offered.

Evan wondered how his mom knew Connor's name after just minutes, possibly seconds of chatting. That, and he was wondering why his mother was making dinner. Dinner was only made on special occasions, considering how busy his mom was. "Of course I do Connor! It's only polite!" Heidi exclaimed.

With that, Heidi was pulling on a baby blue apron and moving into the kitchen. For a solid two minutes, Connor and Evan stood in the entryway, staring at each other, an awkward silence floating between them. "So am I gonna get that book or are we just going to sit here and stare at each other for eternity?" Connor finally broke the silence.

Evan jumped a little at the sudden speech. "Right!" Evan half yelled.  
Evan guided Connor up to his room, where he kept all of his books. Where most teenagers kept their television, Evan had tall shelves of books that he got for holidays. Connor's eyes lit up at the sight of the shelves, but he managed to keep the rest of his face calm. "That's quite the collection you've got there," Connor whistled, trailing his fingers across the spines of the books.

"When you don't have any friends or siblings, toys aren't very fun to play with. So you read books instead," Evan muttered.

"That is kind of pathetic," Connor said under his breath.  
Evan felt his face warm up and his posture slump. Seemed as though Connor did too. "Sorry," Connor said. He snapped the tie.

Evan bit the inside of his cheek. This wasn't the Connor that Evan had heard about from Jared or he had even imagined. The mental image he had of Connor was brash and didn't hold back. Never apologized. Self-centered. Angry. But from the few hours Evan had spent actually talking to Connor, he'd seen him hold back from his clear love of books. Apologize for being brash. "Here, I'll get..." Evan reached for one of his copies of The Giver. The two copies had been separated by three books. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Matilda, and The War of the Worlds. Organizational error. Pulling out the copy that was next to Matilda, Evan handed the almost untouched book to Connor. "Feel free to, you know, write in it and stuff," Evan explained, "I did it in my copy."

"Okay," Connor said blandly.

Another odd period of silence. Evan played with his gauze, Connor rustled the pages of his book with his thumb. Nervous ticks. Connor, once again, was the one to break the silence. "What's up with these random ass photos of trees?" He asked, gesturing to a row of framed pictures that sat on top of Evans bookcase. 

Evans mind lit up. "I, uh, really really really like trees," he stumbled with his words, "that's weeping willow is at Jared's campground, that red pine was up north, that gray oak was in New Mexico-"

"I get it, I get it," Connor said. There was a chuckle at the back of his throat, but not a condescending one. More of a considerate one. 

Connor glanced around the room one more time before plopping onto his back on Evans bed. The blue comforter wrinkled and pillows flew from their original locatations. Evan sat on the corner of the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and holding it close to his chest, making circles with his thumb into the fabric. Connor took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His hands were folded over his stomach. Only now did Evan notice that Connors nails were painted black. They were slightly chipped, but nothing major. "You paint your nails?" Evan asked, his voice quickening.

"Yeah," Connor droned. 

"May I ask why?" Evan didn't judge guys for wearing nail polish, he himself had actually been wanting to paint his nails with little blue stars for awhile. Connor just didn't seem like a nail polish kind of guy.

"To show that I can. To show that it isn't a big deal that I wear nail polish. That and I like the process of putting on the polish."

"Oh, that's..." What word was he looking for? Cool? Odd? Neat? "...Brave," he decided.

Connor looked up, cheeks almost pink. He bit his lip. "Whatever," he muttered.

Evan barely held back a chuckle. Connor laid his head back down on a pillow. As another silence settled around the room, for once there was nothing awkward about it. It was peaceful.


	2. Chapter 2

“Boys! Dinner's done!”

Evans eyes fluttered open. He had fallen asleep during the silence, laying across the foot if the bed. Connor had already woken up, and he was now looking at Evan with squinted eyes. Evan sat up quickly, face red. “Your mom called us,” Connor said.

“Right,” Connor mumbled, picking himself up from the bed. 

Connor followed Evan to the dining room, where a tray of finger sandwiches and a bowl of buttered noodles were on display. Heidi buzzed out of the kitchen, looking slightly bashful. “Sorry it's not much. This was really last minute,” she flushed.

“This is perfect Ms. Hansen. Thank you,” Connor smiled and took a seat.

Heidi beamed. She took a seat across from Connor, which left Evan with the seat between the two. Evan never liked being in the middle of things, metaphorically or literally. “So what book is Evan giving you Connor?” Heidi asked.

“The Giver,” Connor spoke. His plate was almost full, with four sandwiches and multiple scoop fulls of noodles.

“I see. I remember Evan wanted that book so bad in sixth grade, that I was going to give him it for Easter. Little did I know he had bought it at his school book fair until I had already bought him a copy,” Heidi explained. 

Evan used the excuse of eating to not have to join in on the conversation. Not only would he embarass himself and his mom, but he would probably spoil The Giver for Connor. Evan still listened to the conversation, as what else was there to do? The conversation drifted between topics, beginning on books, quickly darting in and out of school, and finally settling on art. “When I was in highschool, I couldn't decide what I wanted to do with my future. Originally I wanted to work in the art studio downtown, but settled for medical or law after my dad convinced me to,” Heidi said.

“You still draw?” Connor questioned.

“I dabble a bit,” Heidi smiled.

“You should show me some of your sketches,” Connor suggested, “and I'll show you some of mine.”

Evan's ears perked up. “Y-you draw?”

Connor nodded. “I do. What do you think I keep in my bag?” 

Evan had never put much thought into it. He had always assumed that it was full of things for school. “What do you draw, Connor?” Heidi asked.

“People, mostly,” Connor replied.

“Of course,” Heidi nodded, twirling some of her noodles onto her fork.

Evan blinked. A beat went by. “Could- could you show me some now? You did bring your bag, right?”

Heidi smiled at Evan, her face happy and confused. It wasn't like Evan to join in on conversations, let alone ask for people to do things.

“I guess,” Connor shrugged, “I left my bag in your room. I'll be back.”

Connor got up from his nearly emtpy plate to go to Evans room. Meanwhile, Heidi looked at Evan with a fond smile. “I'm proud of you, honey,” she smiled.

“W-why?” Evan asked. Usually when his mom said she was proud of him, her voice was weighed down with sadness. It sounded fake. But this time she sounded legitimately proud.

“Well, you have a guest over. You're engaging in conversation. You're trying.”

“Oh,” Evan whispered, “Great.”

Right then Connor walked back into the room, bag on his shoulder and a bright blue folder in hand. “Everything good in here?” He asked.

“Of course!” Heidi said.

Connor half smiled at Heidi. Taking his seat he flipped open his folder. Inside were mainly pencil sketches of teachers, students, and the like. While there wasn’t a ton of detail, Evan could still make out who each drawing was supposed to be. There was the girl with the rainbow shaped clips, the boy who had so many freckles that you couldn’t even begin to count them, the kid who changed their hair color every week. Everyone and their little quirks that Evan thought only he noticed.

“These are wonderful Connor!” Heidi hummed, flipping through a few pieces. 

“Thank you Ms. Hansen,” Connor beamed. 

 

Something caught Evan’s eye, something still in the folder. It had streaks of blue on it, that looked both out of place and completely natural. It was a drawing of a boy, staring out a window with a far off look in his eye. A boy wearing a polo and khakis. A boy with his arm all wrapped up in gauze. A boy named Evan. 

Even though Evan knew that Connor drew pretty much everyone, he felt… special. This drawing had to have been done today, seeing as this was the first time anyone at school had seen Evan with his cast. All of the other drawings that Connor was showing Heidi could have been drawn at any time, last year, two years ago… but this one was new. “Earth to Evan,” Connor interrupted Evan from his thoughts.

Evan snapped back to reality. His mom had gathered up Connor’s pieces and put them in his folder, while Connor had a stack of empty dishes in front of him. “O-oh, sorry,” Evan flushed and scratched his leg with his foot. 

“No need to apologize, Evan,” Heidi chuckled. 

Connor picked up the dishes and stood up. “Thank you for the meal, Ms. Hansen. Remember, you still have to show me some of your art.”

“Of course. I’ll just show you some next time you come over,” Heidi said.

‘Next time?’ Evan thought. Next time. There was going to be a next time. Of course his mom expected there to be a next time. Why wouldn’t she? She clearly liked Connor, and Evan willingly socialized with him. Twice. “Right Ms. Hansen,” Connor nodded, “I’d better get going though. My parents will be expecting me.”

“How’d you get here?” Heidi asked.

“I walked.”

“Evan, how about you walk Connor home?”

“W-what?” Evan stuttered.

Heidi’s face shifted to concerned. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah!” Evan exclaimed, standing abruptly. 

Evan awkwardly shuffled into the entryway, pulling on his usual brown loafers one-handed. Connor arrived seconds later, already ready to leave. It took Evan an embarrassingly long minute to get his shoes on. Then the duo was out the door. “I live a few blocks down, not that far,” Connor stated, voice monotone.  
“Oh, got it,” Evan nodded.

A half comfortable silence wrapped itself around the two boys. Evan was getting used to silence. He decided to take advantage of the silence to take in the view. He’d never been able to before, as he was always too worried that someone would stop to ask him a question or chat with him to be able to take in the view. But now that he was with Connor, he didn’t feel as anxious that it was going to happen. 

To anybody else, it may have looked like an ordinary suburb. However, it looked new to Evan. He’d grown up here, yet he still marveled at the story behind every sleepy house. Every bike left in the yard, every flower grown in the garden, every light shining through a window. "What're you thinking about?" Connor asked.

"Life and stuff," Evan replied.

"Oh wow, how specific," Connor laughed.

Evans face heated up, and his threat tightened a bit. "I-I mean, other people's lives," he corrected, "how everything paints a picture of who you are."

"Ah," was all Connor said. What else could he have said? There is no real response to someone's thoughts.

"Suppose I should ask you the same thing," Evan said.

"Thinking about how my life has an affect on other people. You could work your entire life to a certain goal, but if I come in and do one little thing, all your work is wasted."

"I guess so," Evan said wistfully.

No other words were said for the rest of the walk. All there was was a silence dedicated to thinking. It wasn't hard to lose track of time or place while thinking, so before Evan knew it, the two boys were at Connors house. It was in a nicer neighborhood than Evans, one where Evans mom used to take him trick or treating. All the houses had at least two floors, and were at least as big as Evans yard. They had large glass windows, porches, and gardens that looked unnaturally neat. Connors house was at the end of the cul de sac, and might have been the nicest house on the street. "Thanks for walking me," Connor said.

"Sure. No problem dude," Evan said, testing out the word dude.

"Please don't ever say that again," Connor laughed.

Evan bit the inside of his cheek and let out a weak laugh. "Sorry."

Connor nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Evan stuttered, waving at Connor. 

Evan stood in front of Connor’s house until Connor was inside, not sure if this was creepy or polite. Once Connors door clicked shut, something clicked inside of Evan.

He was going to have to walk home alone.

Evan though the sun hadn't fully begin to set, Evan was still panicky about having to walk home alone. So many things could go wrong. He could get lost. He could get kidnapped. Terrible terrible things. But what could he do other then go home? Stay here, alone, on the street? He thought about texting Jared to drive him home, but soon realized that he left his phone at home.

The walk back to his house wasn’t nearly as peaceful as the walk to Connor’s. Every car that passed made Evan’s heart jump, every person in their yard made Evan lose his breath. After what felt like an infinity, plus a few wrong turns, Evan found his way back home. The sun was almost down and all the lights in the house were off. His mom must’ve gone to class. 

Once inside, Evan went to his room. Even though he could be by himself anywhere in the house, his room felt more secure. He decided that despite having read The Giver a million times, he would have to reread it to update himself on the plot. 

Settling in his bed with the book, a glass of water, and a fluffy green blanket, he began to read. All the plot points he loved, characters he hated to love, loved to hate, all the words he praised, all of them came back to him. Before he knew it, it was 2 AM, and he had finished the book. The ending continued to haunt him in his sleep, continued to make him wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now I'll be posting chapters on Wednesdays, but I might change it to Monday's sometime in the future.
> 
> My tumblr is musidoodle.tumblr.com, so if you want to talk to me about DEH or other musicals feel free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly just filler, but I'm still proud of it.

A gentle shake and a gentle voice.

“Evan… Evan… Evan…”

A field of flowers, surrounded by trees. A breeze gently shakes Evan, and the sounds of nature whisper to him.

The breeze begins to pick up, nipping at Evan’s ears. Sounds of an oncoming storm make nature begin to panic.

“Evan, Evan, Evan.”

The wind blew harder. Evan gripped at the grass tightly, trying his hardest not to blow away. A storm was right above him, pounding and slamming onto his back.

“Evan!”

He shot up breathing heavily. He wasn’t outside in a field anymore. He was in his bed, forehead slicked with sweat. His mom was standing right there, and her hand was reclined as though something had scared her. She was concerned. "Your alarm didn't go off, so I came in to wake you up," she said.

"Oh. Sorry," Evan stuttered, "what time is it?"

"6:50," Heidi replied. She looked and sounded tired. How long ago had she gotten home from class?

"Thanks mom," Evan whispered, pulling off his blankets.

She smiled. "No problem honey."

Normally Evan would go to bed at eight, wake up at six. But he had gone to bed late and then woken up late. Almost four hours of sleep. Great. Now he'll probably fall asleep in class, calling attention to himself. If he were anyone else, he would just drink five gallons of coffee and be fine. But he couldn't drink coffee without his anxiety making him nonfunctional. 

Evan needed to be at the bus stop but 7:30, giving him forty minutes to get ready. Usually he would spend half an hour making and eating breakfast, then spend half an hour showering and getting dressed. The rest of his time was dedicated to relaxing. Now he didn't have enough time to get ready, let alone relax. Instead of his usual scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice, Evan had to settle for a bagel and a bottle of water. His shower was shorter than usual, and then his socks didn't match.

Nothing seemed to be going right. Evan almost missed the bus, and while running for the bus, he fell on his knees into a pile of mud. Now his new jeans were ruined. Everything's coming up Hansen.

Once he got on the bus, Evan realized his seat that he'd been sitting in since freshman year was taken by a new bubbly freshman. Sitting there was out of the question. He would have to sit with someone. He didn't know anybody on the bus but... Alana Beck. She was short and stocky, with her long dreaded hair pulled into a half bun with a scrunchie. There was a purple braided bracelet on her wrist, one that her imaginary friend had given her in the second grade. "U-uhm, may I sit with you?" Evan asked shakily. 

Alana looked up from her book to look at Evan. Her glasses were rimmed with silver stars that caught the light wherever she turned. "Sure. You're Evan, correct?"

"No. I mean uh, yes. I'm Evan. Sorry," Evan fumbled with his words.

"Why are you sorry?" Alana pushed up her glasses.

"I said no when I meant yes and that's annoying," Evan explained.

"Oh. I suppose that could get annoying," Alana nodded.

Alana looked back down at her book, squinted a bit, before pulling a pencil out of her ponytail and circling a passage of text. Just then, she straightened up, a grin floated across her face, then she scribbled down some unreadable words in her book. The pencil went back in her hair. “I just had an idea,” Alana stated. 

Evan fiddled with his gauze. Alana was so… unapologetic. But not in an egotistical way. In a confident way. She seemed proud of herself and her accomplishments. “Evan? Have you read any good books lately?” Alana asked out of the blue.

“W-what?” Evan asked.

“Have you read any good books lately?” Alana asked again, “My cousin Gabriel is looking for a reading list.” 

“Well, I’m rereading The Giver for a project,” Evan gulped.

“I haven’t put that one done yet,” Alana smiled, pulling the pencil back out of her hair. Out of her backpack came a soft yellow binder, all filled with book recommendations. Alana flipped to the last page. 

#428: The Giver (Evan Hansen)  
The rest of the page was also filled with recommendations, with varying genres. 

#416: The BFG (Zoe Murphy)

Of course Zoe would recommend a Roald Dahl book, she always seemed in touch with her childish side.

#419: 50 Shades of Gray (Jared Kleinman)

Evan had no words. 

#421: Lord of the Flies (Connor Murphy)

Connor had recommended a book? Further proof to Evan’s theory that Connor actually liked reading books.

The bus jerked forward, making Evan’s cheek go flush with the seat in front of him. Luckily for Evan however, is that since the bus jerked forward, it had arrived at school. Evan muttered a quick thank you to Alana for letting him sit with her, then rushed off the bus. 

Saying nothing went seriously bad after that would be positive. Of course, that isn’t the truth. Seconds after entering the school building, Evan collided with a fellow student. Their papers flew everywhere and binders crashed to the floor. “Oh, oh gosh, oh I’m so sorry,” Evan stammered.

“It’s fine,” the person chuckled.

Evan recognised that voice. The guitar music, the scribbled on jeans, the teen magazines. He gulped before looking up.

He had ran into Zoe Murphy.

“No no no no no, it’s not okay, I’m so sorry,” Evan panicked and began an attempt to pick up Zoe’s paper one handed. 

“Hey dude, you’re good. It was an accident,” Zoe picked up her papers, being much more efficient at it than Evan was. But together they managed to pick up her things.

“Thanks… Evan?” Zoe asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah I’m Zoe, I mean Evan! You’re Zoe! I know you from the fact that your name on Jazz Band programs, so… I’m rambling. Sorry,” Evan rambled.

“You apologize a lot,” Zoe pointed out.  
“Sorry,” Evan’s posture stiffened.

“You did it again.”

“Sor-” Evan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from apologizing again.

“Hansen,” A new voice entered from behind Evan, making Zoe’s face scrunch up.

When Evan turned around, he was greeted with a full view of Connor, bags under his eyes deep and the giver in his hand. “Connor, what are you doing?” Zoe sneered.

 

“Complaining at Evan,” Connor spoke, voice frustrated. 

Zoe stood up and brushed herself off. “Have fun with my ass of a brother, I have Jazz Band practice to get to.”

And off Zoe went, leaving Evan with an annoyed Connor. “Sorry about my sister, she can be a dick sometimes,” Connor snapped his tie.

“It’s okay,” Evan mumbled. 

“So we have something to discuss,” Connor stated.

Evan gulped and fiddled with his gauze. “W-what is that?”

“The hell you give me this depressing book for?” Connor asked.

“What do you mean?” Evan stuttered.

“The ending! The boy and the baby die! How is that not depressing?!” Connor half-shouted. 

Evan blinked once. Blinked twice. He knew this might have happened, knew that it was possible Connor would’ve jumped to the conclusion that Jonas and Gabe died. “But, the author herself said that it was an optimistic ending. How is death optimistic?” Evan asked.

“For all we know,” Connor began, “Jonas craved death at that point. He’d already come so far, he just wanted to give up at that point.”

“You know what Connor,” Evan sighed, “I’ll respect your opinion. It’s hard to convince someone of something when it comes to literature.”

Connor blinked at Evan as though he couldn’t comprehend Evan’s words. “Whatever. Let’s get to class,” Connor huffed. He snapped the tie.   
In class, their teacher had planned for a work day on their project. Most people either used it for reading or for a social hour. Connor and Evan were the only people beginning on their projects. “Got a plan Hansen?” Connor asked, settling into his seat. 

“No, not really. Just not something with speaking in front of the class,” Evan replied.

“Got it,” Connor spoke.

“Do you have anything you don’t want?” Evan asked.

“Nah. But it would be nice if I could do something with art,” Connor shrugged. 

Evan bit the inside of his cheek. Nothing came to mind immediately. Essay didn’t involve art. A skit had performing in it. Nothing seemed just right. Maybe some kind of exhibit… “Got it!” Evan said, a bit too loud. A few eyes drifted towards Evan, making his posture stiffen.

“What’s the plan, Hansen?” Connor said. His voice was holding back a laugh.

“Well, I, um,” Evan said, flustered. He could still feel eyes burning into him, even though he could see that nobody was still looking at him.

“I thought that, you know, we could do a board? Y’know, the ones that open and fold…” Evan waved his arms in an attempt to communicate what the board did.

“Oh yeah, those things,” Connor nodded, “the kind you use in science fairs and shit.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Perfect. I’ll order one online,” Connor offered, “Now we just need a draft.”

Connor pulled out a piece of sketch paper and pencil from his bag. He sketched the three fold, as well as a title board. “Color scheme?” Connor asked.

“How about black and white, with flashes of red,” Evan suggested.

“That’s good,” Connor pulled out a red colored pencil, streaking the draft similarly to the way the blue was streaked in the drawing of Evan. Curved strokes, some bolder than others. 

“I can write the stuff. I really really really like writing,” Evan offered, fiddling with the gauze.

Connor shrugged. “If that’s okay with you. Don’t wanna push too much on you,” Connor glanced over at Evan.

“N-no, I’m good doing that,” Evan stammered.

“Whatever you say,” Connor nodded.

By the end of class the two boys had a plan. Evan would write and organize, while Connor would glue and manage the overall aesthetic of the board. 

Evan, for once in his life, couldn’t wait to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder to come yell at me on my tumblr musidoodle.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first DEH fic, so everybody is probably super ooc.
> 
> Evan and Connors experiences with mental illness are based of my experiences and people I know experiences. However, if you find anything offensive or off, please let me know!


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